Access Denied
by Blanqueraq
Summary: Axel's just a regular out of work synthetic who cage fights on the side and spends all his creds on kiddie porn. Except it's only one kid, because Roxas is a special series robot - and Axel responds to him just a little too much. Some smut. AkuRoku.


_Access Denied _(3829)

_[In you and I, there's a new land]._

-Utada Hikaru

His left arm reaction time was about .023 seconds slow. Not that it would be noticeable for the crowd of people beating at the metal cage, screaming their threats and cheering lustily. The thirty-four series before him would see it of course, process and immediately take advantage - which was all the millisecond Axel required to decide the fight was over and he wanted to cash in his winnings before the guy left for the night.

There were no chain directives in a cage match, because any robot with half a processor could download combinations and pound the mickey out of his opponents. He depended on his learning software instead, which considering the robot, might be just as quick and just as lethal. Except you wouldn't get disqualified.

The man smiled a wide toothy smile, the glare of his hulking entirely prosthetic body almost painfully sharp. It took less than a second for Axel to zero in and process several weak spots that were currently unusable, but if he got the thirty-four in the right position -

He ducked promptly under a swinging right hook and landed his heel hard into the bot's unprotected chin. His head snapped back and the rest of him staggered for about two to three seconds. Axel didn't give him a chance to recover.

The ends of his tied back red hair itched at his shoulders as he darted forward, shoving his elbow into the thirty-four's solar plexus, before planting his fist into a titanium cheek bone. He could hear the pop and whir of the robot's more delicate machinery under the impact.

Axel was a different series and the force of his hands was his most prized possession. Not that anything for a prosthetic was his own in the long run. Twisting, he landed several rapid fire punches to the bot's kidney. He swerved out of direct line with the clumsy returning hit, before launching himself like a monkey into the air, gripping hard at the cage wire above their heads and locking his thighs around the prosthetic's neck.

You didn't get paid if you killed the opponent, so Axel studied the minute indicators that told him the bot was losing consciousness.

The squeal of a blood thirsty crowd went almost unheard. Just the rasp of breath, his own long and easy, the thirty-four's short and harsh.

He won of course. His opponent would need some serious repair before facing anyone again, but Axel was more concerned about that .023 lag time in his left arm. It was his predominant one and he liked it in perfect working order, especially when his livelihood depended on cage fights nowadays.

Smoothing his hand down the prosthetic skin at the bicep and elbow, he felt a couple anomalies in the musculature. The crowd had cleared up for the most part and he had his dark jacket over his bare chest, faded jeans riding low on his hips. They hadn't been allowed belts in the cage. He'd seen no point in wearing one when he came in.

The bet slip was burning a hole in his back pocket, and he had things he needed to do.

"Great fight Axe. As usual," grumbled the man leaning against a short row of crates, his big, heavily scarred hand doing quick work at his computer hook up. He scanned Axel's stub while several meaningless seconds of small talk ensued - mostly about the beefy black man's daughter - the smell of shit wafting from the vents in the ground and a couple drainage pipes leaking overhead.

The south quarter of the slums was great for a currently unregistered H-series model like Axel to find work, but it definitely wasn't Mecca. Technically, he wasn't allowed in Mecca anymore. Not that his modified programming gave him license to care, but some of his old protocols tended to send up a red flag or two whenever he considered something illegal.

You'd probably call that morality. He thought it was such an interesting thing to process when he was able to accept or ignore it at a whim.

Axel had become complex. Something he'd often skimmed from other synthetics and was always envious of.

"…Yeah, she's gotten so big. I'm thinkin' 'bout puttin' her in one of them special schools up in Mecca where they help to gradually dip you into cyber. Her little mind just works too fast for the links and schools around here." Rapidly scanning his data files, Axel recalled the man's name was Barret and that he was only a partial reconstruct. Ninety percent of him was blood and guts human, while ten percent - his right arm - was entirely prosthetic. Not a rarity but Axel felt a great deal of curiosity for those who were more human than machine.

He'd dealt with too many who were more machine than human.

Offering a crooked grin after a moment, Axel thankfully accepted the cred card issued for his slip. It was better having a temp made for each visit, because it was that much harder to track down. No names or pertinent info were taken, and the location for the fights was never the same so it was tricky trying to nail down future matches. Any personal video or record might be sold or turned in, but one couldn't do much with poor lighting and grainy reception considering the jammers they outfitted the place with.

He never dealt with the Syndicate who ran the whole thing, but his most recent software gave him a more discerning eye. Certainly most of the tech they used wasn't altogether kosher.

"Thanks man," his voice as always laced with a light cynicism, Axel gave a mock salute that was returned with a smirk and gesture to get the hell out of there. He was more than happy to.

His internal clock read one a.m. which meant he was just in time for his other business that night.

Stepping out of what used to be an underground transport rail, his boots thwacking methodically against the concrete stairs, Axel zipped up the jacket he was wearing half way. He was leery of getting any undue attention. Not that he would at such an hour and considering the district he was in, but sometimes old directives were just too hard to kick.

There were only two things Axel spent his creds on anymore since his initial schedule for decommission from the police unit, a subsequent stay of execution thanks to a little government theft by an independent, right wing advocacy group and his own scrambled software. Number one was maintenance, and number two was a certain entertainment series model.

Sure, he required the synthetic equivalent of sleep, but it was only in tiny increments and not always daily.

Leaving an out of work specialty series robot with a lot of time on his hands.

Jogging steadily up the street, Axel felt the anticipation leech into his hair trigger sensory, sending a series of minute impulses straight to his dick. Good thing he'd decided to password encode his memory bank in that area. It wouldn't do for his CPU to get flooded with 'that' all of a sudden.

The slums for the most part were a collection of derelict buildings and businesses in several districts. Axel stayed to the F1 district, but on occasion he would run an errand for an associate or an old friend if the need arose. He didn't technically work for anyone, but the right wing group - dubbed Organization XIII - referred to him as an inactive cell, which told Axel his 'jobless' title wasn't quite accurate. More he'd been laid off with the good chance he'd get a call back.

In the meantime he was content to spent his money on synthetic smut.

Nodding at the men who lounged around the Starclub's door playing card games on tarp covered crates and burnt out hulls of old cars, Axel entered with easy informality. The place used to be a shooting range, but like many things in the slums had been adapted over the years. It was deceptively plain and casual out front, the old caged in counter - which was probably from the original use of the place - had a thin layer of bullet proof glass incasing it, a familiar busty brunette manning the security feed.

Axel offered a short smile, but no hello as he walked past, hands deep in pockets.

The back was where the likeness to a gun range ended. He passed one sided glass windows where different people - full synthetics, partial prosthetics and so on - enjoyed their varying vices. As debauched, twisted and depraved as they liked them. Except Axel had no interest in any of that. Being fully synthetic he ran on certain prerogatives and directives, but they were yards and yards unlike the entertainment and sexual use models he saw scattered throughout.

Really, nothing should've brought him there.

He didn't look up as a heavyset man with bad posture and an unpleasant smelling long coat staggered past him - his only thoughts on the room at the end of the left hallway. His overly sensitive nerve endings sparked indiscriminately. It made him feel restless, so he picked up his pace, his stomach fluttering oddly.

The lights were out when he reached the window. For some reason the display pleased him and reaching down into his left boot, retracted his cred card. He scanned it and the door slid open with a whirr.

The halogen flickered on automatically. A soft whoosh of air followed the door closing again and before he moved to make a selection on a very old looking computer unit, Axel went over to the one way glass. He pried open a miniscule hatch next to the large expanse of window, fiddling easily with the controls until it took on a dark slate color instead of the reflective, mirror like tone.

There was no cheap folding out chair this time, which Axel didn't care about either way.

His body was signaling like mad, but he chose to take things one step at a time. Sometimes the build up was just as good. He had to quash a couple former directives, concerning the legality and ethical standing of what he was about to do - again - but it seemed with practice his new software was starting to overtake the older.

Unzipping his jacket he dropped it unceremoniously on the floor behind him. He stared at the glass box that dominated most of the room for several seconds, before he leant down and punched in a much familiar request code at the base of it. There was no cheesy music, which was something to be thankful for as he'd frequented other places in the past with less luck.

He straightened and it took him another two or three seconds to process the fact his fists were shaking. His eyes were riveted on the glittering glass and who was stepping inside it from the other side.

A series thirteen. Somewhat delicately androgynous, a peachy pallid color that would grow increasingly pink as the session when on. Long, appealingly symmetrical limbs, and a small taunt body that must've been engineered with the thought of pubescence in mind. It was unfortunate, Axel processed a bit prosaically, that kiddie porn laws didn't quite reach as far as synthetics.

They were technically not born, and technically not real, so any perceived sensibility was null and void. It wasn't kiddie porn, because the synthetic was never a child.

Axel had tried many times to go through his billions of files, private and shared, had studied the specifics of his software, even combed through his learning programs, but had never quite pinned down the reason for his odd fascination. He'd compared other series models, hundreds with a similar look, height, frame - boy, girl - and had never felt even a twinge of interest.

He knew there was something. In his older files, many of which had been corrupted in his switchover from enforcement to Org XIII, he knew there was an image clip, or a document. The face was too familiar.

Too reminiscent. His own memory banks had been corrupted in half a dozen places he'd not realized before - until he'd started picking through them a little too closely.

The series thirteen moved, and Axel amended his comment about stepping out onto the boxed platform. Wavy mops of blonde hair fluttering slightly, the boy slipped to his knees instead and smiling a little, began to crawl. He was naked and those reflectively blue eyes were wide with engineered innocence.

But below the mock purity Axel easily recognized the cold, calculating flatness of all their kind. He saw it in the crowds around him, in friends and enemies, in his own bathroom mirror.

Planting his still twitching hands on the glass he watched, every nerve ending hyper attentive for the next move. Blink, smile, or touch. He knew the boy recognized him - if not from someplace before then from his constant and unfailing visits.

The thirteen smirked a little more then, pink lips slightly puckered towards one side. When he finally reached the opposite window, he nuzzled against it, pressing his tiny little body into the glass. Axel traced the contours of the boy's heart shaped face, staring unashamed as his peachy little nipples went hard at the coolness.

Axel didn't bother moderating how his own sensors reacted, nor the way his cock surged. Maybe blood wasn't pumping through their veins, but most of the newer series were works of art, meant to emulate humanity in every aspect. As closely as possible.

His circuitry and nerve conductors were master craftsmanship.

He felt a grin curl his lips when those mocking eyes trailed down him with familiarity, the color of the boy's skin changing degree by degree. It was rosy now, and slowly starting to spread.

Almost desperately wanting to see what he'd waited all night for, Axel made a sudden curving gesture with his finger. The boy reddened further, eyes dipping partially closed as he rolled onto his back. Axel licked at his bottom lip when the thirteen slowly planted his feet on the glass, just below Axel's own shaking fingertips.

He could look right down into that up thrust ass and had to slow the sudden surge of input. No longer consciously monitoring his actions, Axel slipped to his knees so he could watch more closely as the boy crawled slim, tiny fingers across his stomach only pausing to stroke himself playfully before finding his prize.

Axel continued to breath easy, but he plunked his forehead hard against the glass when that first pale, tentative digit circled his hole. The boy's other hand had found its way into his mouth, laving each finger unhurriedly with saliva. He looked painfully like a kid who'd stuck his hand in the honey jar and was now licking it clean.

Except Axel's attention was still on that shy little finger, dipping about half an inch inside that puckered pink hole. His hands were still shaking on the glass and he could already hear it rattle in its frame.

The thirteen had an expression on his face halfway between deep concentration and some strange variation of pleasure. It was so enthralling to look at that Axel had to lick his mouth out again. He watched, slightly amused as the boy emulated the gesture, his tongue sticking out slightly as he finally slipped the first finger all the way inside. It looked like it caused him a moment of pain, but was gone swiftly when his other hand reached down and tweaked the tip of his hard little cock.

Then it massaged his balls for a second before he was down by his other hand. Slick with saliva, he took his index and middle and started to work it in next to the first. His mouth opened at intervals and Axel craved to hear what noises came out, cursing the damn soundproof glass.

Yes, if they'd wished to create the perfect entertainment model, Axel had to admit they'd definitely succeeded. He watched as the boy's asshole swallowed all three fingers with little trouble and processed how badly he wanted the glass out of the way so he could put his cock there instead.

The thirteen let his head loll back, eyelids fluttering as he started working his fingers in and out, ass rocking gently with his thrusts. His toes curled into the glass.

When he started moving his hips a little in another direction, his features strained, Axel caught his attention through the glass. The pink had migrated from the tops of the boy's cheeks down his long neck and across his narrow chest.

Leaning down lower so he was level with that tight hole, he stared the boy hard in the eyes and licked at the glass. A long, cat like swipe of his tongue.

He didn't think a blush was able to travel down that far. The thirteen's gaze seemed to blank out a number of times and Axel found himself wondering what was going on in his head. He'd tried a remote hack once, but it seemed for a shifty sex club they outfitted their toys really well.

His cute ass continued to grind against his fingers, neck arching all of a sudden when he hit that pleasure spot. It was unusual to have a robot crafted so perfectly for sex, and it made him a gold mine of a performer. The way Axel's hardware was reacting quite proved it.

He was still rattling the glass.

Suddenly one of those slim hands was pulling out, ass sucking at his finger. Axel pressed his hips against the platform. The shock of stimulation had several alerts flashing as his visual intake speeded up.

It zeroed in on the thirteen's free hand, moving upwards to grip loosely at his penis. Arching off the floor, he began to pump while simultaneously impaling himself on his fingers. The flush and pleasured look on his face had Axel's hips moving independent of his CPU, the button on his pants clinking with every thrust.

Their eyes had locked. Tilting his head, Axel poked the tip of his tongue onto the glass. Right where that little hole teased him.

He knew the seconds were ticking down to the end of his show, but the knowledge he had all night and into tomorrow - before he had to leave again - brought an almost intimate smirk to his face. The boy opened his mouth on what might've been a moan at the gesture.

His little ass was rocking faster now, thumb brushing the tip of his cock before sliding down to cup his sack.

Suddenly Axel's body tensed, several alerts choking up his processor. The boy's face was two inches from the glass - an oddly stimulating angle - his hands still working tirelessly to bring him emulated completion. His lips were blowing a kiss.

And Axel was being remote hacked. It was sloppy at best and he could've uploaded a virus or shot spam bombs - or even reverse engineered it - but the way the boy was staring made him pause. He waited several seconds, still intent on those plunging fingers.

The voice was fit for a thirteen year old youth, but the tone was clearly that of a synthetic.

_I don't know why you come here. I do know we share an unknown file, some scrapped data somewhere and is the only reason I would attempt something like this._

_I am meant for extraction and prompt destruction tomorrow. If you are here you will be taken as too close the point of interest and eliminated as well._

_Do not come back._

Axel felt the tangles of a sloppy hack slowly recede, and not quite desiring the closeness to dissipate, latched onto it a little longer. Mouth curved, he began tapping his fingers against the window.

_You sound different…than I imagined._

He winked at the boy's flush, yet somehow confused face. The way he curved into his hunch, toes curling again, informed Axel his little peep show had reached its climax. Literally. The thirteen dropped his head against the glass, fingers knuckle deep as he worked his spot ruthlessly.

Axel felt his cock twitch sending signals of pain lancing through his circuits. They really uploaded some incredible software into this one.

Such a straightforward yet oddly cryptic message.

_What's your name? _He asked, before his last minute was up.

The boy tilted his head back - blue, calculating eyes on him - his little hands done stimulating himself and in consequence, Axel. His body had the limp, sexed up appearance of any professional non-synthetic porn star.

It set a couple glands in Axel's mouth to salivating.

Twitching slightly, the thirteen blinked. _I'm an H-series thir -_

_No. What do you call yourself? A name you were given._

There was a pause of about a millisecond.

…_Roxas._

Axel settled back on his knees as the glass began to darken at the corners, lines shooting up across the window. Sending a simple command to dampen the very hard hardware in his pants, he processed the name into his memory banks. The feel of it danced enticingly in his mouth, the odd desire to form the vowels strong.

The glass box blinked and flashed suddenly, scrambling the image of Roxas. His pale hands pressed to the glass and a small smile on his face.

Axel took three seconds to recover himself. He then reached back and slipped the cred card from his boot again.

They were going to do this all night, like he did every day. So, the disturbingly perfect series thirteen was getting disposed of was he?

Axel didn't think so.

There was little he spent his money on besides maintenance and a place to leave his clothes or various pieces of hardware. Roxas - Axel was quite keen to the name - was the only other thing.

To be direct his primary functions had changed and he'd more of a taste for protecting his own interests now. Roxas was his interest.

It was too fucking bad his interest and 'others' interests were at such unfortunate odds.

**Love**.

A/N - jeezus. Skulks away in embarrassment of her smut. I couldn't help it, I wanted shouta boy sex, robot style and I practically bled all over my laptop while writing this. Maniacal laughter. I know the machiness is inconsistent whaaaa don't yell at me about it! I tried to make them as machine like as possible without making them annoyingly expressionless.

I love it. Axel spends all his money on synthetic smut, lol. He's a whore for little blonde boys named Roxas.

Hahahah! Like most of my stuff not sure if it'll be a oneshot or not...


End file.
